


Purple-Yellow Café Date

by EmeliaK



Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games), Puyo Puyo!! Quest
Genre: F/M, also all the other knights are here too, or whatever other flowers are purple and yellow, would you call these two the saffron combination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeliaK/pseuds/EmeliaK
Summary: Over yesterday evening to today's afternoon, two Accursed Knights attempt to try the together thing.





	Purple-Yellow Café Date

**Author's Note:**

> in Wacht and Mappela's 5* and 7* lines, they both mention Eldur and Hilda
> 
> warning: the knights might say "ass" in this one. maybe even more

At the present moment was:

  * a café table broken in half
  * Wacht, sitting at the table, slightly covered in ketchup
  * Mappela, bowing frantically in front of the owner.



 

One minute prior, the table was not broken.

Mappela was now glancing frantically from side to side,  
mentally  
blitzing  
through  
new  
conversation options- oh!

"S-so, um, W-W-Wacht, are there any m-m-m-m-movies you would... you w--you would like to see? L-L-Later?"

Wacht's hand began trembling against the table, rattling both of their dishes fiercely. His own omelette rice looked like it was bleeding flat.

"O-o-o-o-ormaybeweshouldgohome! I think that-- hahyii!" This wasn't helping him. How could she talk through whatever was wracking him?

"Aahhh... Mappela..."

"Yes!" Oh, an opportunity!

"L-Let me... sss..."

"Ah, Wacht! Don't pass out here! Um, uh..."

For starters, Mappela gingerly moved to place her gooey hand on Wacht's. She got as far as touching him for a split-second, he jolted awake, and with strength unfathomable for his harrowed body, he raised his open palm and sent it crashing straight through the table.

 

Two minutes prior, two plates of omelette rice were served to the table. Mappela's had no ketchup. Wacht's was almost just ketchup.

"Are you okay, Wacht? I think it would be fine if you relaxed. I am very much reassured to be in your company like this."

"Aaaah." He drooped over.

"Wacht?"

"Mappela?"

"Yes?"

There was a long pause at this point, which left Mappela hanging on what he could be about to say. I love you? Gosh! Oh, that would be direct! Too direct to handle. But something bad? Something about how this isn't working? Please let it not be that, Wacht. How would she handle either response?

"I... my hand..."

Oh, of course. It could also be anything else. "Is something wrong with it?"

"Mappela..."

"Wacht?"

"I think I might hurt you."

"H-Hurt? Wacht? Is something happening? Please tell me."

Without warning, Wacht's head snapped up and he listlessly stared her straight dead in the eyes. Mappela was stunned in place instantly.

 

Three minutes prior, Mappela was staring at Wacht, who was now staring down at the table. He seemed wound up with tension, and yet coated in lethargy, like he also might just not react at all.

The... well, date... had been going perfectly acceptably so far. The one problem up to this point was that Wacht was trying to keep something or other out of the way of it. A person, a problem, a desire... she didn't quite know. Did Wacht usually stay quiet with his troubles? No... no, he didn't.

So it must have something to do with the date! Wacht was polite enough to want to keep this cordial.

But that was an upsetting thought in and of itself. Was he not enjoying this? Was he not enjoying... being with her?

Was she keeping him wound up? Mappela'd washed her hands just a moment before, so the goo wasn't the usual conspicuous mass that covered anything she touched. Actually, it would still sort of get on anything she touched after a minute or two...

Wait, no, Mappela, think straight. He's stressed out! Calm him down first, and then we can talk about it.

 

Five minutes prior, Mappela had stepped into the bathroom quickly to wash her hands off. She had her own set of cutlery anyway - for use in hands covered in a thick coat of slime - but it was a café, and it didn't hurt to be respectful towards others' comfort in a public environment.

Maybe the café knew about her, and would understand. She wasn't a knight for nothing - she got up to exploits for the sake of the local populace. Right? Miss Hilda might have been the cool, serious one in the past, but this was a new age. Mappela could be the cool one now!

That would be rude to Miss Hilda. Mappela could be another cool one, alongside her!

She stepped out of the bathroom, and shook out those useless thoughts. This was Mappela-Wacht prime alone time! They were actually trying this date thing out. It was working! Sort of. She noticed Wacht was tapping his fingers against the table.

"Pardon me for the short wait," Mappela said, sitting down and inching her chair forwards.

"Aah. No problem," Wacht mumbled, before gently yawning. He was, well, um... slightly... adorable. Ah, uh, very! Very adorable! That is to say, um... the soporific quality he had about him seemed, well, um, attractive, or perhaps it made her feel some kind of sense of, well, protectiveness? No, no, no, wrong word, um, more like... well, actually, maybe that was partially the right word...

But he definitely wasn't always a conversation starter. Not that that was bad. Quiet was nice when contrasted against how uncontrollably chaotic her life and friends usually were.

Not that her friends were chaotic! Not to say anything bad about them. Moreso that they were intense. Or caused intensity?

They caught each other's glances. "Mappela?"

"Ah! Yes?"

"You're nice."

She felt a brief flush. "Thank you."

Wacht broke out of the eye contact first, seemingly recovering from saying that.

 

Six minutes prior, they were in conversation.

"Don't you think Eldur just has more capes, anyway?"

"Well, um, yes, granted, he wouldn't have a single set to his wardrobe, um, because of our profession and its hazards necessitating spares, surely, but..."

"Just don't feel bad about it. That's your curse, right? We're all cursed, so we all get it."

"Yes, but I would like to avoid having to apologise to him again for it, and, well, burdening him with the task of cleaning it..."

"Um... you can wipe your hands on my cape instead?"

"I would rather not wipe my hands on anyone's capes! Is the point I am trying to illustrate, I mean. I think."

"Heh."

"..."

"Ah. The food's almost done, probably, right?"

"Oh! Yes, I would believe so too. In fact, with this talk about my hands, I would like to go and wash them quickly before we eat."

"Your hands...? Don't need anyone's permission for that."

Mappela chuckled. "I suppose so. I will be back in a moment."

 

Eighteen minutes prior, the owner had come to their table to take their food order.

"Um... I would like the chicken omelette rice, please."

The pencil in the owner's hand made a few strokes. "Is there anything you'd like written on it?"

"Oh, gosh! I didn't realise that was a service! Um, no, I will be fine without anything written on it."

"So do you just want sauce drizzled on it normally?"

"Um, no sauce at all, please."

"Alright. And you, sir?"

"Mmm. I'll have chicken omelette rice too. But can you drown it in sauce? Oh, what's the sauce, actually?"

"Uh, the sauce is ketchup. By drown, you mean...?"

"I'd like it in an actual pool of ketchup."

"Well, uh, I can probably do that for you, if you're sure, yeah. So no writing... anything else? To drink?"

"Oh, no, this tea has been fine so far for me, thank you." "Another pot of coffee, please."

As the owner walked away, Mappela glanced at Wacht. "Would it not be very difficult to eat, the way you have asked for it?"

"I prefer it that way... though."

"Why, may I ask?"

"Well, it's kind of something to do with the rice inside."

"The rice?"

"Yeah, it's..."

 

Half an hour prior, they'd ordered drinks first and food later - Mappela's was a chamomile blend, and Wacht's a black coffee.

Having just sat down a minute before, they were still shuffling in their seats slightly. Mappela's mind was on a slight overdrive, whereas Wacht seemed much more calm.

"I-I, um, I'm glad you showed up. Not that I expected you wouldn't! Um, that is to say... well, um, that aside, you seem in a good mood right now. Has anything happened?"

"Aah. No. I'm fine." I'm fine? That's a somewhat odd response. Wait, Wacht is still talking! "...more awake than usual right now."

"Oh, that's good!"

"Yeah. Anyway, how about you?"

"Well, Miss Hilda this morning made breakfast, do you remember?"

"Yeah, the mushroom fry with a million things that weren't mushrooms in it."

"Just before I left for here, Miss Hilda still had a great bowl of it left over, and asked me to hold my hands above it so she could use some of my, um, curse's goo in it."

"Huh? Why?"

"I do not know, truthfully. Maybe she was going to eat it? I hesitate to say it, but I might not put it past her."

"Maybe she was going to make someone else eat it."

The café owner arrived at their table at that moment, with a tray of porcelain pots, cups and plates. "Your coffee, and your chamomile tea."

"Thank you very much." "Thank you."

The owner walked away, and Mappela took a moment to take in the aroma of her tea, before setting it back down to steep. Wacht had just ripped open sugar sachets directly into his coffee pot, yawned, and then immediately poured a cup.

 

Half an hour and one minute prior, Wacht noticed Mappela waiting outside the café's oaken double-doors, tapping her boots against the ground.

"Hey, Mappela," Wacht called out.

"Ah! Good afternoon, Wacht," she called back, in a raised voice. As he walked up, Mappela noticed he had a slight blush about him, and perhaps a slighter nervous-looking shake. Maybe it was the cold, though. No, definitely.

"Ah... let's go in, then?" They both reflexively signalled at each other to go first and immediately realised they'd clashed, which loosened up the mood - Wacht snorted while cracking a smile, and Mappela chuckled softly to herself.

"Yes, let's." They both stepped through at once (although Wacht had to push the doors open). It was much more warming and cosy in here, and they breathed a sigh of relief together.

"You can choose the table."

"O-Oh, I don't mind. Um... that one, then, further in the back."

 

An hour prior, Mappela was getting ready to leave. She had new boots on - nice boots, stylish and yet with excellent traction. She hadn't broken them in, though! Oh, gosh, and she still had the taste of the breakfast she'd sampled in her mouth. She should've washed it out or something, and she didn't have any mints on her, and what if Wacht wanted to-- oh, no, kissing her would be far, far away in the future if at all! This was just a trying-it-out thing, and she didn't want to be late! Gosh, her boots felt weird!

"Ow. Ow. It'll be okay, Mappela! It'll be fine by the time you get there."

This was a date! With Wacht! Gosh, she'd been anticipating this since yesterday. Of course she was nervous.

"Map---pelaaaaa!" Oh, Miss Hilda was calling from the kitchen!

"Yes, Miss Hilda?" she called back from the entryway. "Did something happen?"

"No, but come here! I had a great idea!" It sounded like she was holding in a laugh while saying that. What could she want?

 

* * *

 

Eleven hours prior, Wacht had almost slapped Eldur because he'd looked like he was asleep. Eldur had then turned around in his bed, away from Wacht, silently waiting for him to leave before he actually tried to go to sleep. This wasn't Wacht's bedroom. It was his. Get out.

Wacht looked at his hand, and thought to himself.

"Aah. I still want to slap him. Really hard. Slapping anyone would do, actually..."

He paused for a few seconds, contemplating it, before he hit himself square across the face.

"...doing this to yourself a lot does desensitise you." He hopped off Eldur's bed and walked out, only giving him a brief backwards glance before closing the door.

Outside, in the Knights' bedroom corridor, he was free to mumble to himself. "Goddammit. I want to slap somebody. I want to slap somebody. Aaaaaah, I can't think of anything else but slapping somebody, really, really hard, maybe in the face. Ahahahaha..."

Someone suddenly placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. With a sharp "uwah!", Wacht whirled around and very nearly struck Hilda right in her puffed-out cheeks.

"Pfffhahaha! Sorry, Wacht! Hahaha! Oh, boy, your face! Oh, jeez! Ahaha, sorry, sorry, sorry, you had a date, didn't you? With-- pfff-- I shouldn't be messing with you--"

"Aaaaaah, goddamnit, thanks for reminding me. Now I'm nervous. I hope I'm hallucinating you."

"Pfft. What would that say about you? Pffhahaha! Oh, I'm gonna go to bed! Hope your date goes well!"

As Hilda carried herself to her room, keeping a desperate rein on her giggling, Wacht stared after her.

"..."

She closed her door.

"...I really, really wish I'd hit her. Ahhhh, damniiiiit. Maybe someone will give me an excuse to slap them tomorrow."

He paused.

"Wait, I'm meeting Mappela tomorrow. I hope I _don't_ hit her. That would be really mean." Wacht actually liked her. She was kind, and felt reliable and solid, and she was kind of cute, and was pretty much the most on top of things out of the five of them. Although she definitely didn't have a grip.

He paused again.

"Wait, that's really mean too. Ah, I want the date to not go badly. Maybe if I catch Fried somewhere I can slap _him_ in the face."

 

Far out under the stardriften sky, deep in the remote wilderness against the foot of a mountain on a freelancer's hunt, Fried felt a shiver run down his back and curled up even tighter in his shitty bunny-print sleeping bag.

 

Just under fourteen hours prior, after last night's dinner, Wacht and Mappela were standing in the darkened corridor on the ground floor of their house.

"So, um. Wacht, I g-g-gather you have... f... feelings? For me, then? Um, unless I am mistaken, sorry--"

"No, you're, well, right, I guess."

"Um..."

At this moment, Mappela's state of mind had been blown all over the place. Wacht was interested in her? She didn't feel like she was being burdened by that, right? It actually felt quite nice. Right? Wacht was a nice person who had incredible moments of vulnerability. Mappela was much the same - well, less the "nice" part for fear of ringing one's own bell, maybe, but - they were both burdened by their curses in incessant, inconvenient ways. Eldur wasn't talkative before anyway, right? Hilda took a shine to her curse after a while, it seemed. Even Fried was doing okay with whatever he did. But a curse that intrudes on everything you touch, and a curse of inescapable, perpetual discomfort...

"It's just that... aaah, how do I put this... I think you're probably the most understandable to me, Mappela. It's like I relate the most to you. Out of all of us." Obviously, he'd tried to keep cool saying that, but he was blushing up a storm now, fidgeting and looking away.

O-Oh, it was... it was mutual. What was Mappela feeling right now? Did she want to... take care of him? W-Where did that thought come from?

"W-Wacht, I think I feel... oh, gosh, I feel, um..." Flustered. Confused. Kind of reciprocal? A little heartached? Looking at him, he was nervous. Cute. Gosh, cute? "I think you are adorable."

"..."

"Wait, that came out in a totally incorrect fashion! I mean to say that I think you are very, um, um... a very wonderful person, and that I do think I sympathise with you very well, and I would like to be able to protect you."

"P-Protect?"

"Oh, no! Um, that! Also came out wrong! Protect, as in, um, I think that if you have any troubles, I would not mind - I would very much like it if I could help you. In a more succinct sense, I would like to be responsible for you in some way."

Wacht was trying and failing to form some sort of word.

"That also came out completely wrong! Oh, gosh, I apologise, Wacht! Um-- did you want t-to say something?" Gosh, she was talking herself down a flight of stairs!

Wacht held out a hand to silently ask for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

"...okay. Mappela."

"Yes!"

"Um. Everything you said is basically true for me too. About how I feel about you. I-I think you're wonderful and strong, and-- and I'd like you to rely on me like you want me to rely on you."

"I see! Okay, let's! Um! Let's... let's do so, then! Rely on each other, I mean! That-- that would be good!"

"And, ahhh - do you want to go somewhere tomorrow?"

"Oh! Like a date!"

"Yeah! We can try the date thing out."

"Okay! Definitely, yes, I would be fine with that! Do you know the café closest to our house?"

"Yeah, the one down the street. Wanna meet up there? I'm gonna be out early tomorrow, so I can get there at 9:30?"

"In the morning, yes? That sounds fine!"

"Morning, yeah. Uh. Alright, I'll catch you then!" Wacht began to quickly shuffle away towards the stairs up to their rooms.

"Good night, Wacht!" Mappela called out after him.

After Wacht had left her sight halfway up the stairs, she breathed out deeply, and then leaned against the wall, gradually sliding down against it until she was sitting on the cold wooden floor.

...a date with Wacht. They were going to try a date!

A date...

Wait, wait, wait, how in the world did they get to this point so quickly? Oh, gosh, did Wacht plan any of this? Surely not, right? He seemed just as flustered as she did, didn't he?

 

Just over fourteen hours prior, at last night's dinner, Wacht and Mappela were the two people remaining at the table. Eldur was washing the dishes. Hilda was being extremely helpful at washing the dishes.

"Mm! Mister Eldur! I just finally tried this blood sausage you made!" Eldur seemed about to say something in response. "And I must say, I was in trepidation at how it looked and its concept, but it actually tastes quite nice! There is a strong, well, iron fortitude to it, and--"

".........Wacht made it." Wacht jumped at his name being mentioned by someone who barely ever spoke, let alone about him.

Eldur slapped off Hilda's hand, which was about to toss one hot palmful of soapy water at him. Hilda met his stare and cracked up almost instantly.

"Oh! I see! Mister Wacht, I didn't know Mister Eldur was teaching you his recipes!"

"He also taught me schlapya."

"I see, I see. What, um, what is schlapya?"

"Schlapya ass."

Wacht suddenly met Mappela's eyes with a deep, dead gaze. From behind the counter, someone could be heard busting a gut on the floor, wheezing for breath.

"Um..." Mappela was cautious. "Did... did you think of that joke yourself?"

"No. Hilda made me do it. On a different note--"

"Wait, um, Mister Wacht. I'm, um, I'm sorry for not laughing at your joke. I apologise."

"No, it wasn't my joke. See, Hilda, this sucks now. That was the worst joke to ever tell her."

From behind the counter again, "It was sooo worth it!" was promptly cut off by a fierce kick from Eldur to shut Hilda up and actually get her to help.

"Pfffhahaha! You call that a kick? Take this!" was immediately followed by Eldur gracelessly crashing down to the floor.

"They make a couple," Wacht muttered, turning back to Mappela.

"Um... sorry, I'm still processing the, um, schlap-- the joke."

"Forget about it. Just let me die."

"No! Don't say that."

"Of embarrassment. I'm embarrassed."

"W-Well, if it makes you feel any better, I-I-I thought it was actually pretty clever!"

"Aaaaaah. Please stop."

"I mean, I fell for it!"

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

"And-and the timing was very excellent. It was a wonderful joke!" What in the world was driving Mappela to even say this anymore?

"Mappela. Kill me."

"You said it was a joke you wanted to tell me, did you not?"

"I wanted to tell you a joke so I could break the ice so I asked Hilda for a joke and she thought for like two minutes before she finally gave me that one, and I wanted to break the ice because I want you to stop calling me "Mister" Wacht and just Wacht is fine, and I already call you just Mappela anyway, so it's only fair, and I wanted to ask what you thought of me. There. It's out! Now, please, dear God, let me crawl under this table and die! Aaaah, the bugs are in my ears!" He slumped over in sudden defeat and started sliding off his chair.

"M-Mi-- um... W-W-W-Wacht?"

Wow, that was also embarrassing! Wow! Wacht felt extremely complicated emotions all of a sudden!

Mappela was blushing slightly, lost for what her next words precisely would be.

Hilda, however, was now up again and leaning on the kitchen counter with the world's biggest grin on her face. "Get a roooooom!" Eldur stood up behind her, pent-up words finally out. ".........you finish the dishes. I'm done."

It took a moment before Mappela collected herself somewhat. "U-Um, well... Wacht, do you think we should step outside? To continue this... conversation?"

While they'd talked, Eldur had already left the kitchen - which had Hilda in it - for his room, which didn't have Hilda in it. Hilda kept a smug expression pasted on her face, as she only could watching those two dorks awkwardly amble out and around the corridor together.

Then she decided to actually pay attention to the dishes -- wait, Eldur barely did any of these.

Maybe Hilda had been a little too distracting.

 

* * *

 

After breaking the table earlier in the café, Wacht had told Mappela to "just... I'll handle it, and... you can...", which upon thinking about it wasn't actually a verb, but she'd got the message and sort of inched her way past the owner and then briskly strode out and all the way back home in a state of autopilot delirium. It took her some cuddling a cushion at home on the couch before she was ready to process what had happened, and then she realised that actually she had no idea what happened. Wacht was feeling kind of ill? Was he worried about something? Was somebody making him do something to her? Did he just not like her? Did he  _really_ not like her for him to do that?

"Phooone!" Hilda suddenly called out from upstairs. Mappela snapped out of her frantic panic and realised that the phone right next to her was actually ringing really, really loudly. Whoopsie.

"Um... ye--"

"Aha! Mappela, it's Fried! Can you send me something? Pyon★."

"Um, definitely! What is it?"

"Okay, it's a set of ice axes in my room in a cardboard box that I haven't opened, pyon★. No, actually, correction, it's in Eldur's room, because he had to buy them for me, pyon★."

"..."

"Mappela? Are you there? Pyon★."

"Oh! Sorry, can you repeat that--"

"Is something happening over there, pyon★? I couldn't hear anything, pyon★."

"Um, no! No, it's, um, I just have some things on my mind, and, um--"

"Alright, talk to me, Mappela. What's up? Pyon★."

"Wait, Mister Fried, but your ice axes--"

"Ignore that, ignore that. You got troubles? Pyon★."

"Well, it's about-- um, I went out for lunch with Wacht, and--"

"Stop! Just 'Wacht'? No Mister, pyon★?"

Mappela had messed up.

"Alright, I get the picture. How'd it turn out, then? Pyon★."

Mappela paused for a moment. What could she say? Perhaps something like "Mister Fried, while I appreciate the concern, I do not think I would rather you were privy to what happened - not to disparage you, that is, but rather to say your advice I think would not be required, and that I would much prefer to work this out myself". That was a little harsh, but about the right message.

"I think Wacht hates me."

Wait.

"Um! No, not that! That is to say, I don't know the reason for which Wacht seemed to be hostile to me so today."

"Hostile? Pyon-"

"No, no, no, not hostile!"

"-★."

"Oh, gosh, I am completely giving you a misunderstanding of this. Hold on a moment, when did I start telling you about this? My point is that I am fine and I can most likely discern why Wacht broke a table in front of me, given some hard thought about what I have done to him."

"Mappela Mappela Mappela calm down calm down. Pyon★. Have I ever told you something really embarrassing, pyon★?"

"Pardon, Mister Fried?"

"Firstly, lemme confirm one small detail. Did he open-hand the table? Pyon★."

"Open-hand...? Um, it was like he slapped down... really... hard on it, and it broke?"

"So. Oof, might not have told anyone this before, actually, but Wacht once slapped my ass. Pyon★."

Mappela choked.

"I'm not lying. It was, like, excruciatingly hard as well. And afterwards I swear he looked the most relieved he'd ever been in his life, staring at his hand like it was some sort of, like - pyon★ - some sort of insane euphoria or, like, some secret of the universe it gave to him in exchange for slapping my ass. And then he apologised really hard, and get this - pyon★ - he said it was unfortunate he slapped my ass, since anywhere else would've worked, whatever that means. And obviously - pyon★ - obviously, I ask him why he wanted to slap me at all, and I was expecting some sort of answer like 'because you're a douche, and I hate you', which, yeah, oof, but I can expect that - pyon★ - but he said he just saw, ooh, you, actually, and wanted to slap you awake, but then stopped himself, but he was still hyper-fixated on wanting to slap someone. Pyon★. And then I passed by your door just as he was walking out of your room - you know, I don't actually know why he was in your room, pyon★ - and he just, like, fucking WENT for my ass. And I swear - pyon★ - you know how people sometimes feel spankings the next day? I felt that for like three days straight, pyon★. Obviously, it was burning less and less over time, but, uh, actually, that's not relevant anymore. Pyon★. Anyways, what I figure is, uh, he saw you sleeping? And then really wanted to slap someone again. Pyon★."

"Um."

Fried was silent.

"People feel spankings the next day? Mister Fried, where did you learn this?"

"At spanking school where they teach you the fine-ass science of fine ass-science. Pyon★. More to the point, this was a date, right? You think Wacht was nervous when he asked you? Pyon★."

"W-Well, I was nervous, definitely, and I suppose if I were prompted to guess, I would have to say that maybe Wacht seemed just about comparable to me?"

"In terms of nervousness, pyon★. And he was acting kind of weird all morning, right? I figure he was trying super-duper hard not to slap you, pyon★."

"You know, um, actually, yesterday, he told me a joke! And coincidentally, um, it was about... um, the upshot is that the punchline was, um, oh gosh. Schhhhh..."

"Schlapma ass. Pyon★."

"Yes! Wait, it was actually schlapya."

"Really? That's a variant. I used mine on Eldur, and then he slapped me in the face. Pyon★."

"Wacht said that Miss Hilda had made him use that joke. Perhaps Mister Eldur used it on Miss Hilda?"

"What a trailblazer my ass-slapping joke has become, pyon★! I'm proud. Like a parent. Pyon★."

"Oh! Um, this is no time to be discussing lineage, actually. Do you think Wacht was in my room last night, then? I would be worried for a different reason, if so."

"Look, uh, I don't know about that part, pyon★. It doesn't play quite right in my head, at least, but I also don't know why he was in your room the first time. Bring it up with him, I'd say. Pyon★."

"Alright. Thank you for the talk, Mister Fried."

"No problem, pyon★. I'd better drop now, since my plan doesn't like me being in another country, pyon★." He hung up.

Another country? And slapping... no, wait. Wacht might have actually not meant anything bad towards her. Although there was still the matter about her room to settle...

Mappela took it all in for a moment before she put the receiver back down.

The phone instantly rang again. "Yes, hello?"

"Forgot about the ice axes. Pyon★."

"Oh! Yes, um, I can go retrieve them. Where are you right now?"

"Way too far out for you to make a run to me, pyon★. Uhhh, do you know where those Sage people live, pyon★?"

"Um, yes! Mister Severio and the others."

"The purple one's Galatea. Give her the box and tell her to, like, telelocate me somehow and catapult it there, or something. Pyon★."

"Are you sure? That sounds worryingly unrealistic."

"Bubblewrap it, then, I guess, pyon★. I don't have the time to wait at an address for a week or something, you know? Busy on the hunt. Pyon~★."

Please don't extend it out like that, Mappela thought. "I understand. I'll--"

"Oh, but do it after Wacht comes back and you two make up. Out. Pyon★. Up--up was the word I wanted, and I can wait for that much, pyon★."

"I-I understand! Um, good luck, Mister Fried."

"Ciao. Pyon★."

 

 

Two hours after the date, Wacht came back to the house. The lock on the door clattering tripped a wire in Mappela's brain she didn't even realise she'd set, and she sprinted straight over the sofa and out into the entryway, stopping only when she slammed straight into the wall and fell over backwards.

"Ah. Hi, Mappela."

She sat up incredibly slowly, and gingerly turned to face Wacht, who'd just locked the door behind him. "Ahem... Wacht, I had an enlightening conversation with Mister Fried earlier."

"Enlightening? Fried?"

"And the upshot of it is! Um, I am not concerned about why you broke the table earlier! I am, um, more concerned with why, um... why you had entered my room while I was sleeping? And, um, why you get the urge to slap people, as well, but, um, first things first..."

"Ahhhh, jeez, this was a long time coming. Aaah, okay, the first one... well, incidentally, I, uh, sorry about the, um, date, and, uh, I paid for the damage to the table so don't worry about that. The room thing... aaargh. I'd like you to know I do that to everyone, alright?"

"Really? Please elaborate if you can, Wacht."

"Okay, this sounds really bad, and that's because it is, but I'm confessing here that I have kind of a fixation on you all sleeping. Well, not just being asleep, but falling asleep and waking up. The whole, like, 'sleeping is a part of my life' experience. And that's why sometimes I pass by one of your rooms when I'm really tired and think it'd be no harm if I just peeked in."

"Um... I see. Us specifically?"

"Well, I live with you all on a daily basis. So, yeah, you guys are all familiar territory. That sounds weird, but that's about it. I hope that makes some kind of sense."

"Yyyes, I understand. And the, um, slapping part?"

"Okay, hoo. Boy, oh, boy. I don't know why. It's like a fixation. It kind of ties in with being enthralled by you all sleeping, and when I think about slapping someone awake - which is rare! I don't always think that - but that grabs me. Maybe because I like the idea of, like, waking someone up, and also because I have some sort of slumbering sadistic tendency? And sometimes that just carries on even after I'm done with the whole 'seeing someone sleep' thing, and my brain just keeps hammering in the idea of slapping someone, somehow, and it won't stop. Wait. Fried told you about this? Aaaaaaahhhhh fuck he told you I slapped him on the ass."

Despite the strange revelations, Mappela had to crack up at that.

"How much did Fried tell you? Please stop laughing."

"Pfft! Oh, gosh, sorry, Wacht! Um... pft-- um, he said about that much, in terms of how you were, um, I believe his words were 'hyper-fixated'? And he also kindly postulated that you were not in my room, but in a strange sort of way, I suppose I can understand why you do it--"

"Ah! No! I was not spying on you last night. It was Eldur. As in, uh, spying is the wrong word - I went into Eldur's room, and almost slapped him in the face, but he was actually awake."

"Um..."

"He was lying on his side away from the door, so I climbed onto his bed and was about to hit him, but then he turned and looked up at me and I realised he didn't even go to sleep yet. And you know Eldur's stare? It's honestly in a league of its own late at night in a barely lit room, so I just kind of decided to forget about him, slapped myself in the face and left. Sorry, how much sense does this make?"

"Um, it's understandable! That it does not make a world of sense. After all, I can understand how you might be stressed enough to act on a whim. Um... so you definitely weren't spying on me, then?"

"One time previously, and that time was a while back. I should apologise to everyone for this, shouldn't I?"

"We can, um, get to that later! For now, um, well... for now... oh, gosh, I understand why you did not tell me about this during the, um, date, but in future, or rather for future reference, I-I suppose I know now. Should... um, should you want to slap someone."

"Aaaah! It's not a common thing! I might have made it sound really normal for me, but it's not common! Just please file all of this in the back of your mind, where it belongs."

"I... I see. I was-- I was going to offer, um..."

"What?"

"I was going to offer you slap me should the need ever arise..." Mappela's voice rapidly trailed off as she said it.

"That sounds horrible and you know that, right?"

"Um... m-m-my curse would make for a shock absorbant if I held up my hands in front of my face?"

Wacht paused for a second, and then realised an epiphany - "...ah! Wait, what if I just slap your hand?"

"Like a... like a high five? Would, um, would that work?"

"If I did it really goddamn hard, maybe! Here, stand up and try holding your hand out."

"O-Okay..."

"Face your palm upwards. Alright, let's give this a go..."

Wacht reeled back, winding up his arm halfway like he was about to pitch something into the stratosphere, and with one snap movement, he hurled his open hand through a wide, fast-flowing arc, up, over, and crashing down into Mappela's palm.

Mappela's goo-covered palm, which instantly splattered in every direction it could, including both their faces.

"..."

"..."

The strength in Wacht's knees faded away, and his legs wobbled. Mappela was frozen stiff in shock, non-Newtonian-fluid-style.

"...Mappela?"

In a whispery voice - "...Wacht, I have come close to death many times... but never have I felt as far from life as I had done... just now."

She crumpled to the floor, bearing a face of shakingly rapturous joy and fear, mingled together, tears dripping down in calm streams.

Wacht had literally never seen her make an expression of this sort, ever. It would've been impossible to come to even imagine her like this. Was she actually alright? "M-Mappela, are you alive?"

She laid still for a long few seconds, then suddenly took a deep, deep breath and sat up on her knees, turning once again to face him - this time, in a distinctly more slime-splatter-lined entryway.

Mappela cleared her throat. "Ahem. Wacht, how do you feel?" Her voice returned to form, straight as an arrow again.

"I-- hah? What? How do YOU feel? Are you okay?"

"Wacht, did the high-five we just performed act as a suitable outlet for the desire to slap someone?"

"...wait. I think so... wow. Huh."

"You are welcome to perform it on me any time. I believe if you tried high-fiving any of the other knights like that, you would likely break their wrists, whereas I--"

"Okay, Mappela, I'm not usually one to speak for others, but this is a weird reaction from you. What was with that moment you had just after I high-fived you?"

She stood up sharply. "Please pay that no mind."

"But it was really, uh... I guess it seemed inap--"

"Wacht, I would kindly like to ask you to drop it."

"O... kay."

The two stared at each other for a moment, and then Mappela burst out in laughter at everything that had just happened. She had the brightest, most genuinely beaming face Wacht could remember seeing from her, and in at that moment, they sort of got it. It made sense. Wacht began chuckling, and it grew, and it grew, until he was laughing alongside her from the bottom of his heart.

 

It took a bit before they stopped laughing and calmed down. The air was clear, now. They felt better.

"Mappela?"

"Yes?"

"Can I, um, give you a hug?"

She looked at her hands, then at Wacht. "If you don't mind the, um..."

Wacht lightly snorted, then gently embraced her. Mappela gingerly reciprocated. "I'm getting your cape dirty doing this..."

Wacht buried his head in her shoulder and mumbled "that doesn't matter" into it, and it sounded like nectar to her. Mappela turned her head, brushing it against his, and oh-so-slightly kissed him on the cheek.

She felt an instant response as Wacht tried to bury his face deeper into her shoulder, and in the deepest, most scandalous recesses of her imagination, she could see him blushing. Blushing madly. Her revenge, perhaps.

Wacht tried to recover. "I-I never really realised until now, but I think you might be slightly taller than me..."

Mappela smiled, and very lightly bumped her head against Wacht's. "Or perhaps I am competing with your bad posture, Wacht."

"I thought I was learning to stand up better lately... you always stand up as straight as you can, so..."

"I noticed. You are doing well, I think."

A pause longer.

"Wacht?"

"Mm?"

Underneath, this took almost all of Mappela's courage to say. "I... I like you a lot. L-Love, even, maybe."

Now he was, without a shadow of a doubt, definitely extremely embarrassed. "M-M-M-Me... too... maybe."

Mappela laughed quietly after hearing that, and after a moment, they both were laughing. So sure, but still so unsure.

 

It'd take them time.

 

* * *

 

They finally came apart.

"Well... I must say, Wacht, being stuck to your cape makes it very hard for me to want to let go."

"I brought that on myself, didn't I?"

"Well, does it matter to you now, then?"

Wacht had his hand behind his head, clearly embarrassed. "No. You know, I have a bunch of spares, anyway. I thought you said you didn't want to wipe your hands on anyone's capes?"

"Hmm. Perhaps I would like to make a singular exception."

"I think I'm finding that underneath the politeness, you have quite a capable mean streak tucked away."

"And you must have quite the mean streak yourself, having the guts to say that to me." Mappela smiled and cocked her head. Being able to act so brazenly with Wacht... it was freeing. It felt like opening up the window.

"Want me to be more mean than normal? Trust me, I know how to be downright salacious."

"Sa-- wh-who taught you that word? I don't believe it means what you think it does."

"Ah. Uh. What does it mean?"

"Oh... um. It, um, well..."

And just like that, their back-and-forth rally evaporated in the snap of a finger. Mappela was trying to force sounds out of her mouth, making wildly random hand gestures to try and convey "salacious (adj.) having or conveying undue or indecent interest in sexual matters" without actually saying any of it outright.

 

A minute later, Mappela had gotten the point across, and then sort of sidled away to the living room as Wacht stood there, dumbfounded, his worn brain working out exactly what he'd said. Then he doubled over in realisation with a groan, before standing straight up and pouring himself a drink from the fridge to distract himself.

Mappela sat down on the living room sofa, calming down from her efforts to not speak of the naughty word.

...

"Oh! Mister Fried's package! Oh, gosh. Um, Wacht," she began to shout, "could you possibly peek into Mister Eldur's room and see if a box is there? Mister Fried wanted it delivered to him."

A strained voice called back. "I didn't see one yesterday, or I don't think so, but I guess it was really dark..."

"Yesterday...? Oh! I see. Well, um, can you check again? I need to telephone Mister Fried."

Wacht put down his glass and ran to the stairs, grateful to have something to do other than think about 'I told Mappela I love to fuck' as he bounded up every step, and then stopped at the second door along - Eldur's room. What was with this piece of paper taped to the door?

_If you're picking up Fried's package, go in. I will be back in a few hours, because I am going to force Hilda to eat dirt._

It was sort of concerning how hard those two parts were underlined.

Downstairs, Mappela dialled Fried's number. It rang once, twice, thrice...

"Hello? Pyon★."

"Ah! Mister Fried. Wacht should be finding your, um, ice axes, were they? Right now, hopefully. We will see about getting them to you shortly."

"So it all worked out? Pyon★."

"Oh! Um... yes. Yes, it did." She felt her face smile as she said it.

"Aw, thank god. I do have one more favour to ask you, then, pyon★."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Well, hey, do you think it'd be a good idea to slap his ass out of nowhere, just the once? As payback, pyon★."

"Oh, um! I think... well, I think I shall leave that up to you, Mister Fried. Far be it from me to interfere in your, um," she lowered her voice, "spanking feud."

"Ahahaha! Fair enough. I'd offer for you to do it with me, if you want? Pyon★."

"I shall, um, decline... I think my hands would be too, um, squelchy for an adequate, um, oh gosh--"

"Pffft, it'll be fine! Hey, ciao for now, though. Pyon★!"

He hung up, and Mappela placed the receiver down. What a ridiculous conversation.

Wacht called from upstairs. "Mappela! Found it! Want me to bring it down?"

"Oh! Yes, please! Hold on, I'm coming!"

She hopped over the sofa again - ordinarily, she wouldn't do this even once, let alone twice, but hey, nobody else was looking - and slid along the corridor to the foot of the staircase, grabbing onto the banister to decelerate to a swift, graceful stop.

"Smooth." Wacht was at the top of the staircase cradling the box.

"Thank you very much. Throw it down to me, if you please?"

"Uh, if you're sure. It's heavy."

"I wield a giant mace, didn't you know? Would you like to take a look at my arms sometime?"

"Well, you sure are sure." With a "hup", he tossed it down, and it hit Mappela square in the face as it landed in her arms.

She put the box down.

"Wacht, I will be very happy if you say that was an accident, and I will decide how to react if you do not."

"But you caught it, didn't you? It's not my fault your face was part of the catch."

"Alright, then let us see how I should react..."

Wacht came to the bottom of the staircase while she contemplated.

Aaand...

"Wh-- Don't spank me!"

"Shall we head out and deliver this? Mister Fried requested we visit one of the Sages about it."

"Wait, now my-- there's slime on my--"

"Might I suggest wiping it off with your cape?"

"That's... I mean, I guess my cape kind of covers it up anyway..."

They locked eyes, and then started giggling again.

"I'm going to get a lot more messy with you around, huh?" "And I forsee myself getting a lot more physical."

Mappela put up her hand for a high-five, smiling cheekily, and Wacht dealt it, smiling back.

The entranceway was still splattered with slime. Mappela hefted the box up, and Wacht unlocked the front door.

"Alright, shall we get this going?"

"Sure. Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: Super Soporific Slime Time
> 
> Hilda was later found dead in Miami


End file.
